Gone Forever

by Diane Fanning

  Then the cycle began anew. Despite the burdensome workload in a corporate downsizing environment, despite the stifling sameness of one beige cubicle wall after another, the emotional lives of the folks on the eleventh floor intertwined, and tight bonds formed. Southwestern Bell fostered a family-oriented atmosphere and encouraged community involvement. Junior Achievement—where Sue was an active volunteer—brought business professionals into the school to teach children about commerce and free enterprise. This organization ranked high in SBC’s favor.

  The women in Sue’s area of the floor were a close-knit group who socialized often outside of the workplace. They lunched together often, had frequent evening get-togethers, from book clubs to Mary Kay parties, and during the holidays, they participated in a Christmas cookie exchange.

  Sue was devoted to Southwestern Bell and it showed in her excellent performance. She thrived in the professional environment and pursued advancement when the opportunities arose. Nonetheless, in this workplace full of bean counters, Sue did not fit the mold. For most people on the eleventh floor, the stereotype held true—they were quiet, introverted number-works. Sue livened up the floor with her outgoing personality and her sudden silence-bursting explosions of laughter.

  If Sue received a promotion outside of this division, her presence would have been sorely missed. When she did leave, the reason for her departure landed like a sledgehammer on glass—leaving shattered productivity and shards of pain.

  9

  By 1999, Rick was involved with the Promise Keepers, an organization that championed the institutions of fatherhood and traditional marriage through the principles of love, protection and biblical values. He received his personalized certificate of commitment in which he promised to be obedient to the “Great Commandment” in the book of Mark: “And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength; this is the first commandment. And the second is like, namely this, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. There is none other commandment greater than these.”

  He also committed to the “Great Commission” in Matthew: “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.”

  In August, Rick volunteered to work at the San Antonio Men’s Conference at the Alamodome. Tens of thousands of men gathered to hear messages of salvation, holiness and purity, stewardship, disciplines, family, unity and revival. The thank-you note Rick received after the gathering read: “You, as a volunteer, make the conferences possible through your labor and ministry. We praise God that he prepared you and raised you up to serve Him. For the Promise Keepers staff—thank you and may God, our Father, richly bless you.”

  Bill Matthews’ dislike of Rick McFarland was shared by the spouses of many of Sue’s friends. They were surprised and not a bit entertained when Rick talked for hours about Pokemon cards. They were annoyed at his habit of “face-talking”—always up in their faces, violating their personal space.

  Bill knew Sue thought Rick was a computer whiz, but being in the computer business himself, he realized Rick was just an amateur with no depth of knowledge. Like a lot of men, many husbands of Sue’s friends were uncomfortable with Rick’s atypical role in the family. They squirmed at Sue’s apparent domination of Rick. But they assumed Rick liked to be bossed around by his wife—that for the McFarlands, this lop-sided relationship worked.

  Sue’s women friends, for the most part, wrote Rick off as a nerd and a gadget person—the guy who ran around with the video camera at all the family get-togethers. As a rule, they tolerated as much of him as necessary to maintain their friendship with Sue. More often than not, the women got together without their spouses.

  Once Sue had moved to San Antonio, she and Sandy coordinated their summer and holiday trips to visit family in St. Louis to ensure that they would both be there at the same time. The bonds they nurtured would serve them well when tragedy struck.

  In 2000, Sandy’s world fell to pieces at her feet. Her second child, and first son, was born with Down syndrome—a daunting challenge for any parent. Then, when he was just 4 months old, Sandy had to endure the agony of waiting in the sterile environs of a hospital while the tiny baby underwent open-heart surgery.

  Nearly depleted by this chain of events, Sandy took another blow. One month after her son’s surgery, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Through it all, she turned to Sue for strength, comfort and understanding. Sue, although she felt helpless by the distance that kept them apart, was supportive and uplifting. She told Sandy that if she wanted her there for her chemotherapy, she would drop everything and come. “If you need me just to hold your hair while you’re puking in the toilet, I’m there.”

  Sue was happy to offer support to her friend—she was just frustrated that she could not seem to do the same for her husband. In fact, since they’d moved to San Antonio, he seemed to be spiraling out of control.

  Sue discovered that Rick kept a telephone from a former job and used the number to charge up several thousand dollars’ worth of calls. Sue told her sister Ann, “He’s done another unethical thing and it’s going to cost me a fortune to get him out of it. I’m going to divorce him. I swear I’ll divorce him.”

  Her extreme distress over the situation kept the two sisters on the phone for a very long time.

  Rick felt discomfort in the relationship, too. In the fall of 2000, excruciating headaches drove him to the emergency room seeking relief. When asked about any medications, he told the doctor he was taking some of his children’s Adderol because of the problems he was having with concentration and attention. Rick theorized that if he did not feel any different, he did not have ADD. To the contrary, he found he could concentrate better when he took the drug. The emergency room physician believed the headaches could be secondary to his Adderol use and discouraged him from continuing with his self-medication.

  The Wednesday night before Thanksgiving in 2000, Sue’s former sister-in-law Debbie and her family drove from Houston to San Marcos. There at Southwest Texas State University, they picked up Debbie’s oldest son and headed down Interstate Highway 35 to San Antonio and the McFarland home.

  Thanksgiving morning, Sue and Debbie hustled the kids and menfolk out of the house to the mall and a movie as they tackled the holiday meal preparation. Experience in a number of cooking classes gave Sue a flair in her cooking and presentation. Debbie enjoyed trying out new recipes with her and preparing special desserts for the neighbors who would join them after dinner.

  The next day, Debbie and Sue got up before dawn to hit the Thanksgiving sales. They returned with a car full of packages and prepared breakfast for the two families. Then they all went down to the Riverwalk to enjoy the holiday festivities. It was a wonderful time for all—they would repeat it in 2001.

  A couple of months later, recently divorced Kirsten asked Sue about her plans to end the marriage.

  “We’re going to work on this—we’ll work it out,” Sue said. “We’re going to be partners to raise these boys. Not like a real marriage—a partnership.”

  Kirsten, who had been there and done that, said, “You’ll get to the point when divorce feels right and then you will do it for the kids.”

  Sue said, “Rick said his religion forbids divorce, and he won’t let it happen.”

  10

  The marriage of Rick and Sue McFarland never sailed on halcyon seas. In attempts to rehabilitate the relationship and perhaps resuscitate feelings of love and devotion, they took their troubles to counselors when they lived in the St. Louis area and again after they moved to San Antonio.

  The couple had many obstacles to success. One was the negative attitude Rick’s parents had toward Sue. But worst of all, whenever they passed judgment on her, Rick did not come to her defense—he always sided with his parents.

&nbs
p; With her strong work ethic, Sue chafed under the frustrations created by Rick’s sporadic employment record as his contribution to the family finances devolved into home business schemes. Rick became a stay-at-home dad and, like both of his brothers, his wife was the main breadwinner for the household.

  One of the reasons for Rick’s failure in the workplace was his method for choosing positions. He did not look for work that he loved, he tried to find jobs that fit the persona he wanted to create.

  He enjoyed tinkering with computers and, in all likelihood, would have found fulfillment in that area of employment. But it simply did not fit into the self-image he envisioned. So instead he chose to work in sales, where he was handicapped by his stutter and lack of social skills.

  In San Antonio, he started an on-line business, DOTNETA, a company that paid cash to investors holding notes on loans for cars, life insurance, real estate and mobile homes. The original investor had the advantage of cash in hand and DOTNETA reaped the profits from the long-term interest. At least that was the plan, but Rick did not seem capable of fulfilling the promise in a tangible way.

  In both 2000 and 2001, Rick told Sue that he earned about $20,000 each year—a fraction of Sue’s salary at Southwestern Bell. Sue dutifully reported this money on her tax return and paid the taxes on it. But she sure could not figure out where or how Rick made any money.

  To complicate matters, her boys all had behavioral problems requiring medication. She wondered if the boys’ emotional health was worsened by Rick’s inconsistent child care.

  The combination of these shortcomings made Susan contemplate divorce on many occasions. Whenever she considered the possibility, she made journal entries to document her grievances. The first one was dated on her forty-second birthday—December 31, 2000.2

  I am so angry. I just found out that Rick had made a decision about the prescriptions taken by James and William without consulting me or the boys’ doctor. Four days earlier, on the advice of his sister-in-law, Debbie, Rick and his parents decided to give the boys “a vacation” from their medication. Rick left the pills at his parents’ house when he drove back to rejoin me at my mother’s.

  I fumed as I drove straight over to Rick’s parents’ and retrieved the Wellbutrin and Prozac that William was supposed to take every day. I chastised Rick for not talking to me before taking action and for putting William’s health at risk. He shrugged off my concerns.

  On New Year’s Day, as we drove from St. Louis back to San Antonio, I asked Rick: “Did you give William his pills before we left?”

  Rick blew up. “You packed the boys’ bags,” he told me. “That means you were responsible for the pills. Besides, the boys were doing well without any medications.”

  As the argument continued, he repeated that assertion again and again. I knew he was wrong.

  The next day, I went back to work and the boys went back to school. William came home on the school bus, but Rick was supposed to pick Timmy up from school no later than 5:30.

  At 5:50, I was sitting at my desk at Southwestern Bell trying to catch up on the work that piled up while I was out of town, when the phone rang. It was Kathy, the secretary at Timmy’s school. “Timmy is still here,” she told me. “I called your home phone, your husband’s car phone and his business line and got no answer”

  I couldn’t leave work yet and I couldn’t count on Rick, so I called our friends, Doug and Margot Cromack. They agreed to pick up Timmy, so I called Terry, the director of the school, and let her know who was on the way.

  At 6:30, my phone rang again. This time it was Rick. “I’m on my way to pick up Timmy,” he said.

  I was mad at him and I told him so. Instead of apologizing, he just complained that he could not understand why no one contacted him. When I told them the school tried, he paid no attention.

  Rick’s obsession with shopping is growing out of control. On January 9, he was out so late, he fought my efforts to get him out of bed before I went to work.

  “It’s raining,” he said. “I can run late because I’ll be driving the boys to school.”

  “Please get up and get going,” I begged him before I left for work at 7:30.

  “Don’t worry. I want to go a little late to miss the traffic mess.”

  After work, I picked Timmy up at school and noticed he did not have a lunch box. When I asked Rick about it, he blamed me for not checking Timmy’s classroom thoroughly.

  Later that night, I asked him when the kids did get to school that day.

  “Noon,” he said.

  I was flabbergasted and demanded to know why they got there so late in the day.

  “They were watching educational TV and I saw no reason to interrupt their learning,” he said. “Besides, I had to get them to pick up toys and lift furniture so that I could remove the rug from their room.”

  Did he think these were good reasons? Was he really that clueless?

  The next day, I got a call from Timmy’s teacher, Miss Noelle. “Today,” she told me, “Timmy did not get to school until 10. And both today and yesterday, he had bad behavior days.” She went on to remind me that Martha, the assistant director of the school, had told Rick more than once that the school handbook was quite clear—kids must be there by 9. She then added, “Timmy needs a strict routine.”

  I knew that but Rick didn’t seem to. I promised to talk to Rick.

  Earlier that day, Rick had called and said that I needed to watch Timmy that evening because he needed to take William and James down the street to Indian Guides.

  “I have an appointment to have my hair cut and colored at 5 and won’t be home until 7 or 7:30,” I reminded him. “You need to find someone to watch Timmy until I get home.”

  I called from the hair salon to find out where I needed to pick up Timmy but got no answer on the home phone or on the cell. I went home hoping to find an answer there. William and James were home—in William’s room with the door shut playing video games where they could not hear the phone. They never went to Indian Guides. Rick had gone shopping again and took Timmy with him.

  Our house was filled with Rick’s purchases. He bought multiples of anything that he thought was a good deal or came with a rebate. On Saturday, I asked him not to buy anything else until he had returned all the stuff he had accumulated. He seemed to agree with my request. I was concerned that he would lose track and not return or rebate the items in time.

  “But I have 90 days to return the stuff,” he insisted.

  “Rick,” I said, “we get the credit card bill in thirty days. If it’s not returned by then, we have to pay the interest.”

  He had been out several evenings this past week returning purchases so I thought he would not be out too long that night. But at midnight, he still wasn’t home—how could these returns be so time-consuming? I called and asked him where he was and what he could possibly be returning at this hour.

  “I’m at Wal-Mart wandering the aisles and exploring possibilities,” he said.

  The next morning, he could not get up. He said he was “sick.” I think he was worn out from his glut of shopping at all hours. He finally rose at 11. To my dismay, he unloaded more purchases from the cartons of reorganizing supplies for the stair closet, more than could possibly fit in there.

  At 3, he left home to pick up the boys from the youth symphony. He took them with him to return some of the “good deals” he had picked up since Thanksgiving. He didn’t get home until 10:30 that night—far too late for a school night.

  On Monday, January 15, I got home from work at 7:15. The house was a mess. Dirty dishes were scattered throughout the kitchen, the contents of the stair closet were strewn about the living room and shopping bags were everywhere. There were at least twenty new bags from Wal-Mart. Rick bought a bunch of kitchen items including replacements for all the kids’ dishes and our coffee mugs and an assortment of wrought iron accessories—three or four of each item. He had also purchased a cheap office chair for William and gave it to him to assem
ble.

  “There’s nothing wrong with what we were using, Rick,” I told him. “I don’t want to replace it all with cheap stuff you picked up at Wal-Mart on a whim.”

  Later that evening, I was organizing my home desk and ran across a fanny pack. In it, I found a huge wad of receipts. I leafed through them and found an email exchange between Rick and Office Depot. The store was complaining about Rick’s attempts to make voluminous returns—often bringing back items with a hole in the packaging making it apparent that he had already sent in for the rebate. These returns, they wrote, were a violation of store policy. One Office Depot receipt in the pack, dated two days earlier, indicated that he had returned so many items that he had enough credit to purchase two $250 Palm Pilots. I was beginning to understand why the returns were consuming so much of his time.

  I asked Rick, “Why did you buy these Palm Pilots?”

  “I’m going to rebate them,” he said.

  “What are you going to do with two of them?”

  “I’m going to upgrade William’s Vista Organizer.”

  He still wasn’t answering my question. That was it. I gave him an ultimatum: “Either you return everything or I am filing a divorce today. Mentally, you are losing it, Rick. Totally losing it.”

  The next morning, in the middle of dressing the boys and getting them off to school, Rick sat down to watch an infomercial about a new treatment for focusing. “It might be good for me and William,” he said and insisted I watch it.

  I did for several minutes and decided it was worthless and possibly dangerous. “You are not to give that treatment to William,” I ordered before I left for work.

  It was a long day at the office. I called Rick around 6:30 to find out where he and the boys were. He said they were eating at McDonald’s.

  “There’s plenty of food at home. Why are you eating at McDonald’s?”